Leaning Out

So the next wee one is due to arrive in just a few weeks and yesterday was my last day in the office - I'll be working from home until baby arrives, and on twelve weeks of maternity leave after that.  I'm thrilled.  Ecstatic.  Did I mention happy?  I work from home about 70% of the time anyway, so it really shouldn't make that much of a difference, but dropping the mental burden of having to get dressed up, drive into the office (Washington DC traffic is fun), and smile and generally be pleasant and "on" all day is huge.

I am blessed and grateful to have my situation.  I work in an extremely family-friendly place, and while folks are generally a bit confuzzled by the fact that I'm having a fifth child, they are mostly supportive and happy for me.  But I do get crabby when people tell me that I'm "lucky" to be in this sort of situation - because luck has absolutely nothing to do with it.

Working where I work with the family-friendly options I have was a choice, and one which required (and still requires) sacrifices of other nice "job things," and one which I worked darned hard for.  I work from home, have a very flexible schedule, and a lot of freedom to spend time with my kids and schedule my day the way it works best for me - but I also carry my work phone/e-mail with me wherever I go, 24/7/365 and if I'm awake - I'm never more than a few minutes behind on my e-mail.  I make a fraction of the money I would in the private sector.  I'm using a PhD I worked darned hard for in a non-traditional way well outside of the field I studied in.

And it took a few years of hard work before I reached the point of having proven my competency, trustworthiness, and availability to my coworkers so that they didn't turn me down when I asked to start working from home part-time.  And to be honest, I've turned down and passed by multiple promotions in the years I've been with this group, because the increase in pay and status would have meant less time at home.  Right now - it's a job.  Maybe later there will be time for a career.  Maybe later I'll want one.

I've been told I'm being "mommy tracked." And I'm cool with that.  I've read some articles lately about how we're all supposed to be "leaning in" and being driven and focused, and how women can have a stimulating career and a great family life.  And maybe they can - but I can't.  I know that I couldn't be the mother I want and need to be if I spent any more time and energy on my work.  I can only lean in one direction at once - and that's my family.

Which is fine, and if other women can manage both, then that's super.  But being open to life as we feel called to be, and believing that it's important to be the "primary educators of our children," and heck, just being there for breakfast-lunch-and-dinner, means that I am going to stay firmly on that mommy track, if that's what it is.  If I needed to be in an office away from home every day, or if I needed to travel for work, or if I needed to work late more than once or twice a year - those things that are so important to us would suffer.  And we're not about to let that happen.

So our family operates a little differently than some do.  I have this nifty job where I've traded some money and some prestige for a lot of flexibility and a bunch of nice folks to be around - my boss, actually, turned down a promotion last year because it would have meant he couldn't find the time to coach high school football and his daughter's soccer team.  SSHH (and all the fancy letters after his name, too) is at home with the kids, giving me the ability to sprint to the home office for a conference call in the middle of making sandwiches or reading a story.  We may not ever be able to afford a vacation to Disney - but we feel like the choices we've made are the right ones for us and reflect our faith and our values.

Last summer a prominent female CEO made waves in the media when she said that she was a lousy mother because she was a CEO.  And you know what?  I think it took a lot of courage for her to say that and not pretend like she "had it all."  She was very honest about how many piano recitals and soccer games she'd missed, and how her kids had to go through her secretary if they had a question about homework, and how she didn't see them most days because she was at work.  The feminism of the 1970s and 1980s undoubtedly made great strides for women's ability to find equal footing in the workplace - but it also fed women a line about "having it all."  Maybe some women out there really have found a way to do that, but for most of us mortals, it's a balance.  You can't have it all and do it all equally well - at least, I can't.  That maligned CEO decided to tip the balance towards her career.  I've decided to tip the balance towards home.

So I'm going to spend the foreseeable future leaning out, not in.  I'll work from home, I'll snuggle my sweet new little squish, I'll take my kids to the playground.  I'll spend my evenings going through math worksheets and making lesson plans, not prepping the next day's briefings.  I'll continue to tell my bosses that I'm not getting on a plane to fly around the country to conferences, and I'll continue to be home every night for dinner and baths and bedtime stories - and most days, for breakfast muffins and lunchtime sandwiches, too.  And if that means that I end up with a less than astonishing career when all is said and done?  Well, that's just fine with me.

Deep Conversations

So we were finishing up dinner earlier this week, and as usual, Sprout was asking all sorts of random, off-the-wall questions like "if I programmed a computer with really good voice-recognition software, would it recognize the dog's barks?" and "why do you eat more Oreos than I do?" and "why was Jesus laid in a manger when he was born?"

And that last one actually led to a really long, really good discussion.  'Cause that manger wasn't just convenient, it solidified Christ's role as food - and humble food at that - for the world, right from his birth.  We talked about the difference between the Old Testament covenant and that of the New Testament, and what a covenant even is in the first place.

Sprout is such a perceptive kid.  He thinks things through; even when it seems like no one is home in there, his brain is always working on some problem.  So he asked about that manger, and then jumped right in, asking question after question as we talked through dessert and the dishes.  And predictably, the conversation turned to marriage and how the covenant is lived out in the family.

And it seemed that our little talk with Sprout was actually a pretty good summary of the Catholic concept of marriage and family; one which unfortunately is often reduced to a few soundbytes that distort and distill reality beyond recognition.  I can't lay claim to any enlightenment on the subject - ten years ago as I walked down that church aisle, I had no idea about any of this.  I thought I did - I was a nice churchgoing person, I was taking it seriously, SSHH and I had spent a lot of time talking about all sorts of married-people-things and we were both adamant that the day was not a wedding but the commencement of a marriage.  But really, I had no clue.  And I'm quite sure that even now, ten years and a basketball team of kids later, I still have no clue.  Maybe in another fifty years.  But I'll get on my soapbox anyway.

Because a Catholic marriage is a reflection of God's covenant through Christ.  A Catholic marriage has nothing to do with being in love and gazing into each other's eyes and getting all fluttery.  Being in love and gazing into each other's eyes and getting all fluttery are undoubtedly fun and wonderful and Very Good Things, but they have nothing to do with the validity of a marriage.  They might make marriage easier - but they don't fundamentally have anything to do with marriage.

If a Catholic marriage is a reflection of Christ's love for us, then in a Catholic marriage one is called to love their spouse even when that spouse is being pretty darned unlovable.  Even if that unlovable-state is permanent.  Even when you aren't loved in return.  "For better or for worse" doesn't just imply job losses, or moves to faraway places, or illness, or "tough times."  It means that you commit to loving your spouse completely, wholly, and singularly, no matter what, because Christ loves us whether or not we are lovable, and whether or not we love Him.  It's no accident that Scripture refers to the Church as Christ's bride - it's a marital relationship, and the model for our marital relationships.

And then Sprout asked, "well, then, what's divorce?" And I took a deep breath, because among other lovely people in our lives, my own parents are divorced, and one remarried, and while we want to make our beliefs crystal clear, we also don't want to say anything that would harm the respect and love he has for the people he knows.  And so we talked about how many people see marriage as something that happens between two people who are in love, and how they see being in love as one of the most important things in a marriage.  That if they stop being in love, then they don't believe there's a reason for the marriage anymore - since the promise to love as Christ loved isn't there, and the reflection of the covenant isn't there.

And then the conversation turned to different things, which was just as well, because I was really struggling with how to explain some very adult ideas to a nine year-old, but it got me thinking about how annoyed I get when I hear a remark like "Catholics don't believe in divorce," because that's reductionist to the point of absurdity.  It's not about divorce - it's about an entirely different foundation for marriage.  It's about making the promise to God - despite all of our imperfections - to try to love just one other person as Christ loved us.  Whether that person gets sick, or "becomes a different person," or you "grow apart," or even if they just plain walk out - you have made that promise to God to love them, singularly and uniquely, as Christ loves.  And there are no take-backs on that.  The marriage isn't dependent on them - it's only dependent on you.  A good, healthy, successful Catholic marriage will have two partners equally committed to the marriage, and to helping their spouses grow and love and be loved and be happy.  But your job and responsibility in a Catholic marriage is quite simply to love.  Love returned is a gift, not an entitlement.

It's the same complete, unquestioning, all-encompassing gift of self that God made of Himself in Christ.  It's why Catholics "don't believe in birth control," either, and believe that having children, or at least being open to them, is fundamental to marriage - if you are making an entire gift of yourself, then holding back the ability to create life is incompatible with that.  Creating new life is one of the most God-like things a couple can do when they give of themselves, and to block that capacity is not a part of the complete self-gift required in marriage.  It's a radical way of living and a radical way of loving, and it's often very, very difficult.  I'm blessed to be in a marriage where love, respect, and care are given from both sides, and it's still difficult.  Every day requires becoming less you and more them.  It requires consciously practicing love in every word and action.

There are plenty of marriages between non-Catholics that are all of these things, and are wonderful, blessed, holy marriages.  There are plenty of marriages between people who are Catholic that are none of these things.  And I'm realizing now that I've probably made Catholic marriage sound like a pretty miserable proposition, and not at all like something that any sane person would enter into.  But the wonderful thing is that by the grace of God, it can be - and is - filled with joy.  The more you empty yourself of yourself, the more you become open to being filled with His love - by God through your spouse.  It's not a partnership, or a relationship, or a friendship, or a parenting endeavor - it's more than any or all of those things.  Done well, it's a mirror, in a small way, of God's love.  And that's pretty cool.

Lent

As usual, I'm struggling with how to observe Lent with a bunch of wee rugrats.  We do all of the usual Lenten things - the kids decide to "give something up" and then either struggle mightily with it and fall two days into Lent, or they get cunning with their choices ("I will give up broccoli because it's gross anyway"); we go to Confession and take the big kids to pray the Stations of the Cross; we talk about prayer, fasting, and almsgiving - but that all often seems to fly right over the heads of little ones.

The alternative, which we've also tried, is a sort of nebulous, vacuous understanding of what Lent is.  I've found lists of activities for kids to do during Lent that include things like "give someone a hug" and "play nicely," but that doesn't really get one any closer to God than they should be doing on a daily basis anyway.  God is hard, faith is hard, and it's important that they understand that - but really difficult to get there without the journey seeming punitive.

So this year we have a plan.  As a convert, I didn't exactly grow up being aware that liturgical seasons were even a thing, so I do much better when I have a plan.  I've found a super Lenten calendar that has something to do for each of the days of Lent, with each day marked for either prayer, fasting, or service.  It's things that will actually require some effort from the kids - they're aghast at the thought of having no screen time at all tomorrow, although they came up with the idea of praying together instead all on their own.

We'll help pick up litter in our neighborhood, buy supplies for the local animal shelter, and invite a friend to dinner.  We'll write our own prayers on a theme for the day, and learn about a different culture, and drink water instead of milk or juice for a day in solidarity with the poor.

We're also making more of a concerted effort to pray together as a family.  We always have, at least at the start of school, meals, and bedtime, and we've been reading a Psalm at dinner on Sundays - but we're going to try praying the Rosary together and getting to daily Mass and adoration more often.  The more we're able to work prayer into our life, we've found, the easier it becomes to do.

And all of that is really a trial run for next year's school.  We had found a religion curriculum that we really liked - and then our parish religious education program, which the kids attend, started to use the same one.  This was a great thing, as they'd been using a pretty empty, feel-good curriculum before, but it left us in the lurch, finding this out the same week we were starting school!  Not knowing how in-depth they were going to go with it, we decided to plow ahead with using the same texts at home this year - which has resulted in some duplication and frustration.  Homeschool fail.  Since the parish program is doing a pretty decent job with the nuts-and-bolts of religious ed, I think next year we're going to drop a "formal" religion curriculum from our homeschool altogether.  Instead we'll learn about the saints, we'll pray more together as part of school - maybe even starting the day with morning prayer together - and we'll make volunteering and service a regular part of our week.  Ultimately, we decided, we're more comfortable "outsourcing" religious education than we are with not being very hands-on in how they live their faith.

So please pray for and with us as we start this season of growth.  Pray that the kids enjoy the journey - little Doodle was delighted this morning that everyone was "getting messy" at Mass together, and it was really okay with mom and dad - and that they are able to focus on building their relationship with God more than the sacrifices.  Pray that SweetPotato finally consents to take a bite of fish, any fish, really.  Pray that we grow closer as we pray and serve together.  Pray that I do not strangle the kids on days of no screen time or no snacks.  And pray that as we go through the next forty days, trying and stumbling and falling and getting back up and learning together, that we may be, in some small way, a reflection of Christ and the Church in the world.

So it was Catholic Schools Week

Last week, so our parish tells us, was Catholic Schools Week.  First, I'll say that I love our Catholic schools.  Sprout went to our parish school for two years and had a great time.  Catholic schools offer options for solid academics in many areas where public schools are lacking, and for many families are a good option for a faith-based education.  They're awesome.

My quibble is with the way this was all presented in our parish.  Well-spoken young men and women stood up after Mass and talked about their wonderful experiences at our parish school, and the pastor extolled the virtues of "Catholic education" and how great the school was for anyone looking for said "Catholic education" for their children.

But it was Catholic Schools Week, not Catholic Education Week, and those are two very different things.  It is entirely possible to have a great Catholic education without attending a Catholic school.  There are an awful lot of Catholic families providing a great homeschooled Catholic education to their children, and an awful lot providing a great Catholic education to their children at home and through other avenues while their kids go to public or secular private schools.  Catholic school is not an option for many, and that doesn't mean at all that those children aren't receiving a Catholic education.

Now I realize that these two options don't bring money into the school or the parish, and at the end of the day the parish school needs students to help pay the bills.  But Catholic school ain't cheap - not at the elementary level, and it's beyond the reach of most in high school.  One or two students are a stretch - and when you have a large family, it's nearly always cost-prohibitive.  And many Catholic schools don't have resources for students with special needs, or gifted students, or students who speak English as a second language, which makes them not a viable option for many families.

I wish that parishes (okay, our parish) would reach out to these families.  They're trying their darndest to give their kids a Catholic education - whatever form that might take - and they're often shuttled to the back of the line because they're not writing big checks or taking the "usual route."  Our parish has no homeschool group or ministry - we're invisible.  I didn't even know we had any homeschooling families until we could no longer afford the parish school and I started asking around about homeschooling.  The kids in religious education classes on evenings and weekends, or the public/homeschool kids who do scouts or volunteer work through the parish don't get recognized in the parish community for their contributions - not the way the school's basketball team did, or the middle school kids did during Catholic Schools Week.  And that makes it hard not to be cynical sometimes.

And this causes, I think, a disconnect between parish life and raising a Catholic family.  The fact is that there are myriad ways to raise and educate Catholic children, and to do it well, and not every family is able or wants to go the Catholic school route, for many reasons.  That doesn't mean that those families aren't contributing, valuable members of the parish and Catholic community.  But when "excellent, life-changing Catholic education" is made out to be synonymous with "parish school," it sure feels like we're second-class citizens.

But putting my griping aside, our little homeschool itself is just wonderful right now.  SweetPotato can write all her letters and numbers.   Our kindergartener SweetPea is finishing up first grade math, grammar, and writing right now, and will start second grade work next month.  She decided she wanted to do Latin and geography like her big brother, so, well, she is - and she's enjoying it.  Third-grader Sprout just finished fourth grade grammar and writing, and he's finally internalizing the concept that if he gets his work done early - he can have fun all afternoon.  For a nine year-old boy who often has the attention span of a gnat (unless he's reading about computers; then you can't stop him), that's huge.

Last year at this time we were in a major slump - the kids were bored, we were stuck inside because of the winter weather, and the daily grind was getting on everyone's nerves.  This year, while we are a bit stir-crazy since the backyard and playgrounds are either frozen solid or muddy swamps, everyone is still plugging away cheerfully and making good progress.  Which is great, because I don't want to have to feel guilty about slacking off for a week or two when WeeOne #5 arrives this spring.  Maybe it's better organization (I can't believe how much of a difference our new schoolroom makes when it comes to getting work done and lesson plans organized), maybe we're finding more time for field trips (great fun at the Maryland Science center!), maybe we're just finding our way, or maybe the kids are discovering more that interests them in this year's work.  Whatever it is, we're having fun, learning together, praying together, and walking together with God - and that, I think, is a pretty fair Catholic education.

Today I Am Angry at the Pope

Yes, I sure am.  He’s a wonderful, holy man.  He’s doing wonderful things for the Church.  He’s bringing people of all faiths together in a way that was overdue.  But the Holy Father needs some discretion with the media.

I’m talking about his recent comment that Catholics don’t need to “breed like rabbits” in having children.  He was speaking of a mother he’d met, one who had seven children and, after being told that it was dangerous to her health, was pregnant with an eighth.  I get it, I really do.  There are cases – plenty of them – where having more children is unwise and should be avoided.  But rabbits, really?  I don’t know any Catholic parent – especially parents of large families – who doesn’t enter into the responsibility of each child with a tremendous amount of prayer, thought, consideration, and discussion with their spouse.

Rabbits plays right into the hands of an anti-Catholic mainstream media.  It backs up their erroneous claim that this Pope represents a culture change within the Church, and not just in the way the Church presents Herself to the world.  The Church has never said that Catholics should breed like rabbits, despite the world's misconceptions.  Folks on the outside have looked at large Catholic families and made remarks like “wow, those people breed like rabbits” – but that’s not Catholic, that’s just a disparaging flippant remark.

And there are some Catholics who think that large families = good Catholics, and small families = bad Catholics, but they’re just not right.  That’s missing the whole discernment part of parenthood, and is awfully judgmental of people they probably know little about.

In fact, the Church – in documents that are far more authoritative than the Pope’s media interview – has time and time again written that people should not breed like rabbits.  That every month couples should discern, prayerfully and with great thought, whether they have a serious reason to avoid pregnancy.  That couples carrying the awful cross of infertility should not use all of what medicine has come up with to produce a biological child.  That parenthood goes far, far beyond having children and encompasses a lifetime of raising them – in hands-on, deeply involved ways that go beyond what other, more “mainstream” religions espouse.

The key – and what doesn’t come across in a soundbyte, and what isn’t being said here – is that while Catholics (the practicing ones, that is) are supposed to discern parenthood, the default position is that children are always to be welcomed.  A practicing Catholic couple does not enter into marriage deciding how many children they’d like to have, or thinking about when a good time is to have children.  Rather, one discerns when it is a poor time to have children – and the reasons for that need to go beyond convenience and wants centered on the self.  If it’s not a poor time to have children, then they are to be welcomed.  Since most middle-class practicing Catholic families don’t really have serious reasons to avoid having children – they are in decent health, aren’t in danger of not having enough to eat, and can educate their kids – then most middle-class practicing Catholic families are larger than average.    That’s hardly breeding like rabbits.

And although you don’t hear a lot about it at Sunday Mass, Catholics who are using artificial birth control, or who are using NFP with a “contraceptive mentality,” or to prevent pregnancy without “serious reasons,” are sinning.  That’s not popular, and if priests started talking about it they’d probably lose a lot of people who don’t like it.  But it’s what the Church teaches, it’s the truth, and being Catholic means you don’t get to pick and choose what you follow.  Since no one hears about it on Sundays, I’d guess that the majority of American Catholics, at least, are largely ill-informed about what their Church teaches.  If they get all of their information from the mainstream media and “what Father says,” then how on Earth are they supposed to know any different? 

We need more Catholics who are engaged.  More who have read Humanae vitae and Gaudium et spes and Theology of the Body.  More who realize that there is a difference between Church teaching and pastoral decisions made by their local priest to emphasize – or not – certain elements of that teaching.  The Church is run by human beings, who are ministering to human beings, and who are all going to make a lot of human mistakes.

And the Pope knows that, of course, and knows the difference between being pastoral and being theological, and in his longer writings and statements – one the very next day after his unfortunate comment, in fact – has shown himself to be a champion of those large families that were the target of his offhand remark.  As he should be, as that is the teaching of the Church – one which won’t change.  But the problem isn’t Church teaching, it’s that it isn’t being taught at all in many cases.  And a flip comment about rabbits isn’t helping. 

Jesus showed mercy to the woman caught in adultery.  He saved her life.  But he didn’t then give her a hug and ask how she was doing, and tell her it’s okay, she’s trying to be a nice person.  He said go and sin no more.  Get outta here, and don’t let me catch you doing that again.  There was mercy, but there was also tough love.  Maybe the Church needs more tough love.

In the long run, it’s not Earth-shattering.  But as someone who is trying their hardest – and admittedly often failing – to live those encyclicals, to live the teaching, I cringe to hear an offhand remark made to the media, by the Pope no less, knowing it will be picked up and repeated thousands of times, and increase the gleeful finger-pointing at those rabbit-breeding Catholics, and form the basis of millions of Catholics justifying their decision to not follow Church teaching on what is one of Her biggest and hardest issues.

It ultimately comes down to the responsibility that every Catholic, parent or not, married, single, or religious, has to let go of the control that we cling to so tenaciously.  That, ultimately, is what we admire about Mary – she was the handmaid of the Lord, she let go of all the control she had in her life in order to do His will.  And that’s incredibly terrifying, and means letting go of the dreams and ambitions that we have for ourselves and being open to following what God is calling us to do.  But once you let go of that control, it’s amazing how much lighter you feel.  You’re still responsible for your choices – but the direction doesn’t need to come from you.

If you had asked me 15 years ago what I thought my life would look like, I never in a million years would have said that I would be a mother of a large family.  I never would have told you I’d be Catholic, either – I was a pretty committed agnostic.  I even taught courses on Nietzsche – Mr. “God is dead” himself - at a major university.   And I would have laughed at the thought that either of those things would be an improvement on the happy, independent, intellectual, self-sufficient life I was living.  But those things have brought incredible graces and blessings to my life.  And I am 1000% happier now than I was then.  And so, whether or not people out there think we’re breeding like rabbits, we will continue to remain open to life throughout our marriage, prayerfully discerning whether at any particular time we have serious reasons to not welcome a new child to our family.  And quite honestly – and I would have been astonished at this fifteen years ago, too – I hope that we never decide that the time is not right to joyfully welcome a new life.

Honesty and Support and Grace

So I wrote a few days ago, teary and frustrated and feeling desperate.  I wanted a raise, I wanted a babysitter, I wanted a cleaning fairy to come vacuum the dog hair off my carpet.  I wanted someone, anyone, to tell me that they’d been there, under that big pile of kids and noise and dirt and work, and I was not alone and that while it was hard to see at the moment, that pile of kids and noise and dirt and work was right where God needed me to be.

And someone did come.  Just like always.  I feel pretty stupid now, actually, for even feeling frustrated.  There was no raise or babysitter or cleaning fairy, but God stepped in with His grace just as clearly as if those things had appeared on my doorstep.

I wanted just one – just one – good moment with one of the kids and SweetPotato, my “challenging” child who is loud (we call that “vibrant”), defiant (“independent”), and continually messy (“creative”) and who will be the first to march up to you and announce, “Hi!  I’m SweetPotato and I’m very rude!” – well, she smiled sweetly and snuggled up for a bedtime story with no complaints, no whining, and was just all cuteness and love.

I wanted a sympathetic, supportive ear from someone who had “been there,” and while I grumped about the too-chipper-and-perfect moms of large homeschooling families, an old friend, a seminarian on the other side of the world who is decidedly none of those things, shared his struggle with his own vocation with me and I realized that he was a person who had been exactly where I was.  He could not have been more “there” had he been sitting in my living room and living my story.

I wanted to feel like my life had more breadth than dirty diapers and drippy noses, and a lovely friend showed up from hours away for coffee and a chat.

I went to confession and Mass over lunch on a blessedly slow work day downtown – the first time in months I’ve had a gap in my meetings to do that – and as I sat in front of a statue of Mary, I thought about how she was exactly there, too.  Being without sin doesn’t mean you’re not afraid, or questioning, or frustrated, or tired.  It doesn’t even mean that sometimes you don’t want to say No. Flippin’. Way. to what God is asking of you.  That just means you’re human.  Mary was human.  Jesus was, too.  The sin only comes when you reject the grace to do what God is calling you to do.  He always gives you the tools.  I just wasn’t seeing them. 

Mary was undoubtedly terrified by her task.  Being Jesus’ mom wasn’t easy.  She stood to lose everything – her husband, her family, the trust of her town.  She probably wanted to tell the angel “Nuh-uh.  No way.  Find yourself another virgin.  I’m outta here.”  And feeling that way would have just been human.  What made her Mary, Mother of God and not just Mary, nice girl from Nazareth, was her ability to accept the grace to carry out the job.

And as I sat there it became abundantly clear that grace had been sitting under my nose the whole time.  I don’t need a raise or babysitter or cleaning fairy.  I just need to take a deep breath, and trust, and know that God will help me find the answers and the patience and the strength when I think I’m all out.  The graces that I found were there all along – I was just so caught up in myself that I couldn’t see them.  Once I found the humility to get down on my knees and ask for help – they were right in front of me.

Honesty and Support

I have not written in ages, because Christmas.  The wee ones look extra cute when they are being forced to wait to open their presents until after Mass, see?

And because the three birthdays we have within two months of each other, right during the holidays.  And because the flu that took over the family.  But that is all drawing to a close now, and so I find myself fresh out of excuses to be away from the keyboard.

School is, on the whole, just super.  Sprout complains that no kid ever in the history of kids has had to do as much work as he does, and it's SO unfair, but they're all doing great and racing ahead and I have no complaints, really, in the academic department.  We've taken a Christmas break for two weeks and I am happier than the kids about it.  No lesson plans, no worksheets, no sorting through binders before bed... it's lovely.

But to be honest, I'm tired.  Some of it's pregnancy and hormones, some of it's the lingering flu, some of it's the getting up at 5am with a crack-of-dawn-type toddler.  But mostly, it's just being worn down and worn out.  I'm tired of wiping butts and wiping noses, tired of mediating fights and having every 30-second trip to the bathroom be interrupted by at least two or three children screaming my name, and tired of having "grown-up conversation time" be limited to the five minutes in between when the kids are finally asleep and when SSHH and I pass out in bed.  95% of the time I love the calling to be a Catholic wife and mother - or at the very least, I can keep the dignity and purpose of the job foremost in my mind.  The other 5% of the time - well, if I didn't truly believe the Church's teaching on families, there would be no way I'd have signed up for this.

Which brings me to my soapbox of the day, which is that this path - the big-Catholic-family path, the homeschooling path - can be very, very lonely.  I know that every parent, whether of one child or ten, has moments of feeling alone, lost, and without support - but it's multiplied when the children outnumber the adults exponentially, when there have been years and years on end of pregnancy, nursing, and toddlerhood - sometimes all three at once - and multiplied when the sheer financial burden and technical difficulty of clothing, housing, and feeding that big ol' family means that not once - not one single time ever - have you paid a babysitter to watch the kids while you went out to dinner or a movie to recharge your batteries.

When the initial response of most people is to think that the very existence of your family is proof of some sort of clinical insanity, it's hard to find a safe place to vent or look for a sympathetic ear.  When being tired at the end of a pregnancy leads acquaintances and colleagues to wonder out loud why you don't just decide that "this is the last one," you're put in the situation of forcing a smile and pretending that everything is great, when you feel like you're about ready to crack.

And my complaint is that none of that is helped by the Catholic or homeschooling communities out there.  While every parent, big family or small, homeschooling or not, has moments of desperation and meltdown under the stress of raising children, leading a large, homeschooling family is like being in a crucible at times.  Handling a vanful of kids going crazy is at least a two-person job, so there's no just handing it to one's spouse for the moment while you step out to compose yourself.  Day care is out, babysitting is (at least for us right now) out, "taking a break" is out - forget about a weekend vacation.  A large family doesn't mean less quality time with the kids, it means less quality time for yourself and as a couple as you stretch to cover what the little ones need.  Homeschooling can create great relationships with your kids - but it also makes for very intense, constant interaction that can be overwhelming.

It's intense - and not always in a happy smiley way.  But I don't read or hear a lot of stories that reflect this.  The Catholic and homeschooling blogosphere and conference circuit is filled with stories of delightful chaos and well-adjusted people.  No one talks about the moments when you lock yourself in the bedroom and sob into your laundry pile, or the effort of wrestling your preschooler onto the toilet, begging her to "just TRY to pee before we go," while the toddler clings to your leg and you breathe through the braxton-hicks contractions the whole episode has just brought on.

When your day looked like that - and the "support" you can find is full of happy and chipper - it's easy to feel alone.  And I know, at least anecdotally, that everyone is emphatically NOT happy and chipper all the time in this endeavor.  So why the heck aren't we talking about it?  Is it that some are so filled with the need to defend and explain our counter-cultural choices that we feel there is no other option than to make them appear blissful all the time?  Is it that other people are able to keep the thought of family as vocation foremost in their minds all the time and truly are happy and chipper every day?  'Cause if so, they're better folks than I am.

And when you have a large family and homeschool, it's hard enough to find support.  Most of my mom-acquaintances have one or two children and feel - and sometimes say out loud - that I've "asked for this" and can't complain.  It's a pretty long, complicated explanation to go into why exactly this view of family is a part and parcel of our faith, what we hold and believe to be true as the foundation of our being, and not a "lifestyle choice."  It's harder still when your own parish - where you, theoretically, should see some big Catholic families and where that support should be coming from - has very, very few large families and fewer homeschooling ones.  I know I'm not the only one whose noticed - two of those large families who offered friendly faces have started going to Mass at other parishes just in the past year.  And now even going to Mass feels like we might be the circus sideshow of the day, and that we stick out like the loud, chaotic bunch that we often are.

So I'd love to hear more about the hard days from those bloggers and conference speakers and community leaders out there.  It would make the road feel less lonely.  It would be more honest.  It might, ultimately, be more supportive to offer a shoulder to cry on than a beaming smile.  Because sometimes, that's what this reality looks like.